nights; h.s.

38

thirty-eight

brooklyn

"Excuse me, miss? Are you here for Tyrone? Tyrone-James Nights?"

"Yes!" I shouted, causing the nurse to step back in shock. "I'm his sister, I'm Brooklyn. What's wrong? Is he okay?" I questioned, the nurse nodded carefully.

"He's fine he just got out of surgery-"

"Surgery!" Harry and I shouted in unison.

"A very minor one, he's stable now and-"

"What was the surgery for? What's wrong with him?"

"You have to ask the doctors that, I just deliver news." She responded back sweetly, "You should be able to see him in 30 minutes to an hour." She said, handing me a clipboard with a bunch of medical questions, handing me a small smile, and speed walking away.

NAME:

DATE OF INJURY:

ALLERGIES:

AGE:

HEIGHT:

WEIGHT:

DATE OF BIRTH:

"He's going to be okay, Brooklyn." Harry smiled sweetly turning my attention away from the problem. I nodded. "Are you feeling any better?" He asked innocently and I nodded. "Knowing that he's alive, I'm a little less anxious. I just want my mom to get here." I said dryly and Harry nodded. My eyes diverted back to the paper, where I read the same word over and over again. Hoping it would rearrange itself to an easier question, even though there is no easier question.

NAME:

NAME:

NAME:

"Is your dad's name Tyrone?" He asked randomly. And in present tense.

"...Tyrone-James." I responded.

"So, TJ."

"Yes."

"Is that why you call TJ Junior?"

"Yes."

"Where is he? Your dad, I mean."

"He's... in Detroit."

"Oh."

"What about yours?"

"He's dead." Harry responded bluntly. I crossed my legs, staring down at the tip of my converse. "I'm sorry." I said, he shook his head, chuckling. "It's okay."

"It's not. It's okay to be sad-"

"I'm not."

"Harry, he was your father."

"He was an evil, disgusting, sadist of a human being." Harry said back. I couldn't respond. I physically couldn't. "Loosing him was the best thing that could have happened for me." He added on.

"Did he ever... hit you?"

"He was never around," He started, "He was drunk or high 70% of the time and when he was there he'd beat the shit out of my mom. And then my sister would get involved and then he would beat her, then little 10 year old me would get involved then he'd beat me. But when that man was drunk he was the best person you'd ever meet. I realized that when I was younger and I used to spike his food- mom sometimes made Gemma cook, so when I got to help her I'd pour vodka in his eggs or something and season it."

"That must've been really hard."

"Yeah," he chuckled, "It was shit."

"How did he die?"

"He got drunk one night and drove off a cliff. That cliff is like... 20 minutes from my Grandma's house."

"He died in England? I thought you lived in North Carolina?"

"I do but they're both from England. My mom and him. They got married here, had Gemma and me then he died when I was 12. My mom remarried when I was 14 then we moved down to Carolina with her new husband when I was 15."

"That's.. that's rough, Harry. I'm sorry." I sympathized, placing my hand on his knee and rubbing in supportively. He just smiled, "it's okay." He said placing his hand over mine. I leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips, a peck. Like the way old people kiss their lovers shrivelling lips. Hearing Harry open up to me about his father made me feel guilty for not doing the same, but I just wasn't ready. Harry had a whole 6 years to move on. I had a whole 6 months.

I felt my phone vibrate intensely in the hem of my jeans, I pulled up my knit sweater, sliding the iPhone out of my pants, into my hand, and answering the call.

"Brooklyn!" My moms voice shouted through the device, "I'm here! I'm in the hospital! Where are you?" She asked. I looked around, trying to find any significant markings I can use to direct her. "Uh... I don't know."

"You're not there!" She practically roared.

"I-I'm here. I just don't know where I am." I whispered, Harry did a weird hand signal and I handed him the phone. "Go down the hall from the North entrance and just keep going. We're sitting by some vending machines." Harry said kindly, I couldn't hear my moms response.

"This is Harry..... yeah, I drove her..... she said he's alive and stable... okay, bye." I watched as he removed the phone from his ear, clicking it off and handing it back to me. I mouthed a quick thanks to the brunette boy.

Soon enough, I heard my mother's voice calling my name and the sound of her heels clicking furiously against the tile floor until she reached where we were.

"What happened!" She shouted.

"I don't know— the nurse came here and said they did a minor surgery on him and that he's alive and in a stable condition. The lady at the desk said that it was an assault and he has a few broken ribs some head trauma. The nurse said we can see him in about half an hour." I said to her, her red painted lips were parted, her eyes watery and her skin tinted with streaks of mascara. I couldn't imagine her acting this concerned for me after the party incident.

"Assault?" She asked quietly and I nodded, sitting down in the chair that once belonged to me, she blinked down at the tile floor.

"Who would assault a child? He never did anything to anyone. He's eleven- I don't understand." She said, tears falling in drips onto her cheek. I sat next to her, manoeuvring myself carefully so I didn't crush the crackers sharing the seat with me. I rubbed her back trying my best to comfort her.

"Excuse me. Are you The Nights family?" A different nurse asked. Our heads shot in her direction.

"Yes." I answered quickly.

"You can come see Tyrone, now."